


Between the Sand and Stone

by Claire



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Double Penetration, M/M, Threesome - M/M/M, Undertones of D/s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-22
Updated: 2012-12-22
Packaged: 2017-11-22 00:58:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/604060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claire/pseuds/Claire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil and Nick take Clint apart</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between the Sand and Stone

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Clint/Coulson exchange over on LiveJournal. All of the awesomeness to corpsereviver, who beta'ed this into something that could be posted.
> 
> This is the porntastic version of 'Phil and Nick take care of Clint.'

Phil loves it when they get Clint like this, all soft murmurs and pliant flesh. Loves getting him to the place where the only words Clint knows are _yes_ and _now_ and _please_ and _more_ , with a little bit more of Hawkeye stripped away with every push of Nick's fingers into his body, stripped away until Hawkeye and Barton are nothing more than thoughts and all that's left in their hands is Clint.

"Please..." Clint's voice is raw, wrecked in a way that Phil only ever hears when it's the three of them, when he and Nick have Clint all wanting and desperate.

And hadn't that been the biggest rush when they'd started this, when they'd finally had Clint between them. Phil had thought he'd heard every tone Clint had, thought he'd heard every emotion in Clint's voice. Because he'd heard cocky and assured, as an arrow had flown through the air, straight and true, towards a target they'd said was impossible until Hawkeye had grinned and stepped forward. He'd heard calm and professional, as explosions drowned out every fifth word and Coulson was on the other end of the comm as Barton had led four junior agents out of a Hydra base and towards their extraction point. He'd even heard fear, quiet and childlike, as medics had carefully pulled Clint away from Natasha, his fingers stained red and clothes covered in blood that steadily dripped onto the ground beneath them.

But the first time he'd heard Clint begging them to touch him had almost undone Phil. It had only been Nick's fingers tight around him that had stopped Phil from painting Clint's skin with strips of white as each _yes_ and _please_ and _oh god, just touch me_ had fallen from Clint's lips.

And every time feels like the first. Every time Clint gifts them with the vulnerability he normally keeps buried so far inside himself, every time he allows them to see him, broken down and stripped away until nothing remains but _Clint_ , Phil feels a little more privileged, a little more awed. That this proud and stubborn and amazing (and, yes, Phil is biased, but he's not ashamed to admit it) man trusts them with this, trusts them with _him_ , is something that Phil will always be grateful for.

It's Nick's hand on Phil's arm that brings him back to them. Brings him back to here and to now and to Clint reaching out for him, fingers grasping the air as he arches and pushes back onto Nick's fingers.

"Thought we'd lost you for a minute there, Phil."

Phil doesn't need to look at Nick to hear the amusement in his tone. They've been friends, lovers, partners and everything in between, he knows Nick as well as he knows himself.

"Thought you were going to leave me to deal with our boy all by myself."

Phil _does_ look at Nick after that, raising an eyebrow at the innocent look Nick has on his face, not buying it for a second. "Hardly," he replies, catching Clint's fingers in his own, feeling them tighten sharply in his grip as Nick twists his wrist and the digits buried in Clint do something that has Clint writhing and begging them to _please just fuck me already_.

"You ready for us, Clint?" Phil asks, untangling his fingers from Clint's to run them through Clint's hair.

The glare Clint gives him, heavy lidded and all black with barely a ring of colour, in reply is muted by the broken groan that Nick causes as his hand presses further into Clint's body, almost far enough for Clint to snap closed around his wrist. Almost, but not quite. Not tonight.

"Yeah, I think he's ready," Nick comments, laughing at the gasped out _bastard_ that drops from Clint as he pulls his fingers free from Clint's body, slapping Clint's thigh lightly and leaving a smear of lube behind that Phil wants to follow with his tongue.

Phil catches the tube that Nick tosses towards him easily, dropping it next to them as Nick moves up the bed, settling onto his back. He runs the hand that had been in Clint over his cock, lube and precome mixing and shining slickly in the light of their bedroom. "Clint--"

Even shaking, with desire and need written in every line of his body, Clint is still graceful as he moves to straddle Nick. Nick's hand on Clint's hip stops him from sinking down too quickly, and Phil can't help but reach out. He can't help but wrap his fingers around the base of Nick's cock, steadying him as Clint shifts, unable to stop the smile at the soft groan Nick gives as the head of his cock catches on the entrance to Clint's body before sliding inside.

Phil keeps his hand wrapped around Nick as Clint slowly sinks down. Keeps his hand there until Clint's ass brushes his fingers and he pulls back so Nick can seat himself fully inside.

And Phil's tempted just to sit back and watch. To watch Clint come apart as he rides Nick, to watch him come apart with each thrust into his body, with each inch Nick sinks deeper and deeper inside. Tempted to make them put on a show until he comes across Clint's back, marking him as theirs. Tempted, but not enough.

Straddling Nick's legs, Phil places a hand in the small of Clint's back, gently pushing him down and smiling as he goes down with ease, forehead resting against Nick's shoulder and legs shifting ever so slightly further apart as Phil slides a finger into him alongside Nick's cock.

Nick hisses quietly as Phil's finger runs up and down the hardness inside Clint.

"This is going to be over a lot quicker than any of us want if you keep doing that," Nick warns.

Phil just smiles and slides a second finger inside, pausing as Clint stills, soft noises mouthed against Nick's skin. This is the moment Phil holds his breath for, the moment where a single word from Clint would end this, but Clint just lifts his heads and pushes back.

"Phil, please--" The words are low, slurred in the way that Phil's been waiting to hear from Clint since they started this. Low and slurred and undercut with desire, an invite written on every inch of Clint's skin.

Phil pulls his fingers out and grabs the tube off the bed, emptying it over his fingers. It makes him slicker than he probably needs to be, but he doesn't care. His legs are bracketing Nick's, bracketing Clint's, as he presses against Clint's body, feeling Nick under him.

There's a second, a beat, where none of them move, and then Clint shifts and opens for him and Phil is sliding inside, pressed against the hard, hot length of Nick.

Phil can feel Clint shaking around them, and Nick's hand moves from Clint's hip to his thigh, rubbing soothing motion across his skin.

"You're good, Clint," Phil murmurs. "You're so, so good, taking both of us like this."

The shaking eases a little, but not fully, and each movement shoots straight to Phil's cock. Long moments pass, and Phil can feel the soft tremors running through Nick's thighs, knows he's matching them, both of them straining against the urge to rut into Clint, to hold him between them and just _take_. But they won't. Not now, not until--

"Please--"

"Clint?" Nick's hand stills on Clint's thigh momentarily before moving to swipe through Clint's hair, the leftover lube still on Nick's fingers making the sweat-slick strands glisten.

"Oh god, _move--_ "

And that's what they've been waiting for. Want and need and permission and invitation all wrapped up in _Clint_.

The words are falling steadily from Clint's lips now, each _yes_ and _please_ and _fuck_ and _now_ making the two of them twitch inside him.

Nick's hand runs through Clint's hair once more before he cups Clint's hip, looking over Clint's shoulder and fixing Phil with his gaze. "What do you say, Phil. Think our boy's waited long enough?"

The hitch in some of the words tells Phil that Nick's not as unaffected as he's trying to make out. But that's okay, neither's Phil.

Covering Nick's hand with his own, Phil leans forward, words careful and low in Clint's ear as he speaks. "You ready, Clint?"

Clint nods, his whole body shuddering as Nick moves under them, pushing up further than Phil would have thought he could considering the two of them are on top of him. But Nick's never been one to let little things like facts and the actuality of a situation stop him, so why should he start now?

Nick shifts his fingers out from under Phil's slightly, linking them together, and it's that that gets Phil moving, sliding out of Clint's body in countermotion to Nick before pushing back in, his balls brushing Nick's. It's slick and it's messy and Clint's a quivering mass between them as they move. Their rhythm falls into place easily, because they were Phil and Nick before they were Phil and Nick and Clint, and the one thing they've always known is how the other moves, how they react. So they use that now, with one sliding out of Clint's body as the other slides in, each movement pushing breathy gasps out of Clint that sound a little like words, a little like begging.

And Phil knows they're not going to last long, not with Clint impaled on them both, shuddering and open and gripping them tighter than Phil can remember, pressing his cock against Nick's and feeling the drag of skin on skin inside Clint's body every time one of them moves.

It's Nick that comes first, hips pushing up in a thrust that nearly lifts them off the bed and his lips falling open in a wordless groan before there's warmth covering Phil's cock, slick and easy and familiar. Phil's barely a few seconds behind him, the feel of Nick's come triggering his own release, emptying himself inside Clint and feeling his come mix with Nick's as they both give final, valiant pushes into Clint's body.

Clint's still moving between them, still hard and begging them to do anything so long as they touch him. Tugging his fingers out of Nick's grip, Phil reaches around Clint to grasp at his cock, stroking Clint once, twice, before Clint shudders and pulses in Phil's hand, his head dropping as he comes across Nick's chest.

Phil continues to jack Clint lazily, the aftershocks running through Clint's body making him tighten around their cocks, until Clint whimpers and finally pushes Phil's hand away with a wordless murmur.

Carefully pulling out of Clint, Phil moves back, resting his ass on Nick's calves, his cock twitching as he watches Nick slowly guide Clint up until his cock slips out, followed by a trail of white as the mix of Phil and Nick's come slides out of Clint's ass and starts to run down his thigh.

Unable to stop himself, Phil reaches out, swiping a finger through the come escaping from Clint's body and moving to hold his finger to Clint's mouth, smiling as his lips open and Clint's tongue wraps around the digit, cleaning the combined taste of Nick and Phil away.

"Phil, seriously, you're killing me here." Nick's voice is quiet, gaze heavy as he watches Clint suckle on Phil's finger.

Phil knows what Nick's thinking, he's thinking it himself. But they aren't as young as they used to be and the pull of sleep, with Clint settled between them, sounds ridiculously inviting.

Clint's already about three seconds away from unconsciousness, pressed against Nick's side and half sprawled over him.

Phil thinks that maybe he should go into the bathroom, maybe go and get something to clean them up, but Nick's looking at him, hand reaching out from where Nick's arm is tucked under Clint. And they're going to be itchy and messy and quite possibly stuck together when they wake up, but Phil just takes Nick's hand and figures it can all be dealt with in the morning.


End file.
